Ice Princess
by Athena mou
Summary: Modern day Mary/Matthew story set at Cornell University. Matthew and Tom are studying at Cornell and also happen to be on the Men's Hockey Team. Robert is the head coach of Cornell's hockey team. Mary is an up and coming ice skater. All the Crawleys are present, and so are the Levinsons. John Bates, Charles Carson, Elsie Hughes, William Mason, and Anna Smith also make a presence.
1. The Tryouts

**Modern day A/U Downton story.**

 _While working on my other two stories, Last Year of Innocence and The Rightful Heir, I thought that I would share this little story that's been hanging out on my hard drive for almost a year now. It's a modern day Mary/Matthew story set at Cornell University where Matthew is a student. Robert is the head coach of Cornell's hockey team. I've taken some liberties with ages and with Olympic history, so please don't try to match the events in this story to actual historical Olympic athletes and events. My knowledge of hockey it a bit limited, so please forgive any accidental mistakes on terms and expressions. On those notes, I'm not a native English speaker and this story has not been betaed. I've done my best to catch any spelling and/or grammar mistakes._

 _Enjoy!_

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* * *

 **Chapter 1 – The Tryouts**

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Fifteen year old Mary Crawley glanced up at the large clock on the wall across from where she was standing. She had ten minutes. Letting out a sigh she carefully stepped onto the rubber mat leading to the rink.

"What do you mean we can't go on the ice?"

Matthew glared at his friend William who just shrugged.

"That's what coach said. We're to wait a bit. Someone girl is booked."

Matthew looked up from tying his skates. "What? Who?" William shrugged. Matthew got up and stepped closer to the opening to the ice. "Some ice princess, I bet," he muttered loudly.

"I can assure you that I'm no princess," a chilly voice said behind him.

Matthew turned around, almost tripping over his skates. "What? Who the…"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and he closed his mouth. Without another word, she dropped her hoodie on the bench and removed the protective covers on her skates. Matthew jus stared at her. A moment later, she stepped onto the ice and music started playing. He followed her graceful figure as she glided across the ice to the music.

"So you've met her then?"

Matthew jumped at the question posed in a distinctly Irish brogue followed by a chuckle assaulted his ears.

"Who is she?"

"You don't know?" Tom Branson's eyes widened as they looked at each other.

"I've never met her in my life."

"That's Mary Crawley."

Matthew's eyes grew large and he turned his eyes back onto the ice. She was coming towards them as she prepared for a jump which she executed perfectly. He groaned and sat down on the bench, his hockey gear creaking and protesting. Resting his head in his hands he saw his whole future go down the drain.

"I'm screwed."

Tom pounded Matthew's back in an attempt to show his sympathy. "Perhaps she won't mention you to her da?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Matthew muttered darkly. "I'm sure she's a daddy's girl."

"As a matter of fact I am."

Matthew felt like crying. Wincing he looked up out of the corner of his eye. Yep, she was standing there in all her graceful glory. Her long dark hair in a thick braid rested against her lavender colored outfit, and her slender legs in tan tights appeared to go on forever. His head snapped up when he realized that he was checking her out.

"Are you done?" The iciness was back in her voice.

"I'm so sorry…"

The glare she gave him could have made grown men cry. Matthew just found himself frozen in place.

"Mary?"

"Coming, Elsie."

The Scottish voice behind him brought Matthew out of his frozen state. A middle aged woman was coming towards them.

"The car is here, Mary. We better hurry." She draped a coat over Mary's shoulders before grabbing Mary's hoodie. "You know how your father detests this thing."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Yes Elsie."

Matthew realized by how the woman was helping Mary that she must be her coach.

"None of that, my dear," Elsie said with a chuckle. She pulled Mary's braid free and tucked the coat tighter around her charge. "You did well."

"Thank you."

Matthew just stared at them, hoping that perhaps if he stayed quiet that they might forget about him. Luck was unfortunately not on his side this afternoon. As Mary turned to leave, she looked over her shoulder at him.

"The ice is yours. I would suggest making the best out of it. My father is a very good judge of both character and skill."

Matthew just gaped, not sure what to say. A moment later she was gone. As her words sank in, he realized the insult in them and he started fuming, muttering curses under his breath.

"He's here."

Matthew did no need to ask William who 'he' was. There was only one person William could be referring to, Robert Crawley, head hockey coach at Cornell University, and the person holding Matthew's future in his hands on this damnable day.

"Get your sorry asses on the ice – now!"

Coach's order made all the boys snap on their helmets and one by one they entered the ice, wearing their game jerseys. Matthew's had his number twelve and Crawley on the back of it, something which he now realized that Mary _ice princess_ Crawley must have noticed. With a last groan at the unfortunate incident, he pushed all thoughts of her out of his head. Now was not the time for distraction. It was time to focus. Time to play hockey like he had never played before.

~ ~ ~ o ~ ~ ~

Robert Crawley leaned against the Plexiglas wall behind him. He and Bates were in the visiting team's box, watching yet another round of eager high school seniors show off their skills on the ice in hopes of a scholarship to Cornell. This was the fourth school in as many days and Robert longed to be back home. He missed his wife and his team, and perhaps most of all, his dog.

"That Branson boy has potential," Bates said in a low voice next to him.

"Hmm?" Robert shook his head to clear his thoughts. After all he had a job to do.

"Number eight, Thomas Branson. Irish exchange student." Bates picked up his file with the players' bios and application summaries. "Interest in political science."

"Put him down as a maybe." He watched for a moment as the players passed and parried, now and then bouncing off the sides quite loudly. "Who's their lead goal player?"

"A Matthew Crawley."

"Crawley?" Robert looked straight at Bates for the first time, waiting for the assistant coach to explain the coincidence with the name.

"Yes, Crawley."

"Are we related?" He waved towards the folder on Bates' lap. "Anything in there say something?"

Bates shook his head. "Nothing more than that he's English. From Manchester."

"Manchester?" Robert exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "Then I highly doubt that we're related. None of the Crawleys on my side would ever settle in Manchester."

"His father was a doctor…"

" _Was_?" Robert instantly turned serious. "His father's dead?" Bates nodded. Robert let out a heavy sigh and ran his hand over his head. "Poor lad."

The two recruiters followed Matthew's number twelve as he moved across the ice, carefully and strategically passing to his team mates before eventually scoring a goal. Bates looked at Robert and he shrugged.

"The boy's got potential."

~ ~ ~ o ~ ~ ~

Mary leaned back in her seat in the warm car. Elsie had finally stopped fussing over her and Mary, now dressed in warm cover-ups and Uggs, had curled up for the ride back to the hotel. As she fished out her phone from her pocket, she texted her best friend Anna, not caring that it was almost midnight and a school night in England. That obnoxious hockey player still had her riled up. Who the hell did he think he was? She huffed when Anna texted back laughing at Mary having been called an ice princess.

"Is everything all right, dear?"

"Yes, Elsie," Mary said politely. Of all the adults in her life, Elsie Hughes was probably the one Mary held in the highest regard, with only one exception.

When Elsie had first become Mary's coach, she had put down a series of very strict rules for the at the time twelve year old girl. Set bedtimes, regular and healthy meals, and no boys and parties. Mary had protested profusely, calling Elsie an old cow who knew nothing. She had even fired Elsie, something she was quite aware that she had no real power to do, but it still felt good to say the words. Eventually Mary had conceded, and slowly a bond had started to establish itself between the two. The real truth was that Mary would never have made it to the World Juniors without Elsie's strict coaching and creative mind. And now she was so close to the Europeans that she could taste it. Mary wanted a gold, and she wanted it badly. Perhaps she would even make it to the Olympics someday. Following in her father's footsteps, even if it was not hockey, was something she had aspired to since she was very young.

Mary knew that her father loved her, but she also knew that he lived and breathed hockey. She had never had any interest in the game, but she had loved skating ever since her father taught her at the tender age of two.

~ ~ ~ o ~ ~ ~

Matthew flopped down on his bed, letting out a loud groan. He had pushed himself harder than usual today and he could tell that he would pay for it tomorrow. Running his fingers through his still damp hair, pushing it out of his eyes, he re-played the game in his head.

"Oi, Crawley, you awake, mate?"

"Shut it, Tom. I'm knackerd."

Tom chuckled and sat down on his bed across from Matthew's, resting his arms on his knees as he looked at his roommate.

"You did well."

"What does it matter?"

"Pitty party of one. Crawley, party of one!" Tom laughed and shook his head.

Matthew tossed his pillow at Tom who caught it with ease. Annoyed at not even being able to hit his annoying best friend with a pillow, Matthew continued sulking.

"I was rude to his daughter, Tom." Matthew shot Tom a quick glance before letting out another groan, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Once she tells him, I'm dead."

"Perhaps she won't."

"Of course she will," Matthew snapped.

"I don't know, but let's say that she will," Tom said with a shrug. "I don't think that he will be swayed by that."

"You know what he looks for in his players, Tom," Matthew said with a tired sigh. "He wants respect, politeness and smarts. Just being able to play hockey is not enough."

"You did great today, mate." Tom grinned and tossed the pillow back at Matthew. "At least you didn't go arse over tit on the ice."

"Tom!"

"Though I think you did look at her tits." Tom laughed harder at Matthew's blushing face. "I know you did. So did she."

"That's all I needed," Matthew groaned and flopped down on the bed again. "I'm double dead. I not only insulted his daughter, I also checked her out."

"Cheer up, mate. What girl will willingly tell her da that a good looking bloke checked her out?"

"I don't think she thinks very highly of me at the moment. She'd probably call me a creep."

"You're eighteen, mate, and she's fifteen I think. That hardly makes you a creep."

"She's fifteen?" Matthew opened one eye and looked suspiciously at Tom. He nodded. "Shit! I thought she was older."

"She's not a child, Matty."

"Don't call me that. You know I hate it when you do. And yes, fifteen is a child."

"Did she look and sound like a child to you?"

Matthew made a face. In fact, Mary had sounded much older. "No, but it doesn't matter. She's fifteen. End of story."

"With boobs."

"Shut it!"

Matthew groaned and pulled the duvet over his head. "Go torture someone else, you daft bugger."

"Couldn't hear ya' there, Matty boy," Tom said cheerfully. "Sweet dreams, lover boy. Hope you dream about your ice princess."

Some very colorful cursing, barely muffled by the duvet, was Matthew's only answer.

~ ~ ~ o ~ ~ ~

Robert stared at the papers spread out on the coffee table in front of him. Young and hopeful faces smiled up at him from the boys' applications. None of them seemed familiar since he had only seen them in their hockey gear, all covered from head to toe. Across from him, Bates shifted in his chair. It was two in the morning and they still had to make their selection for tomorrow's interviews.

"The Mason boy is in," Robert said and moved William's page to the 'to be interviewed' pile.

"Agreed." Bates looked up as Robert cursed, having dropped some mustard on a page when picking up his sandwich. "Who's that? I'd say that one's selected too. By fate."

Robert rolled his eyes as he finished chewing. Putting down his sandwich, he picked up the page, wiping off the mustard in the process.

"Matthew Crawley."

"See? Fate, I tell you."

"Law and real estate," Robert read as he skimmed through Matthew's application. "Alright, let's give him a shot."

"What about the Irish boy?"

"The one who's on a full scholarship right now?"

"Yes."

Robert carefully read through Tom Branson's file. "Interest in politics, debate team… defended Sin Fein?!" He looked up, staring at Bates. "Are you out of your mind? The lad is borderline a terrorist!"

"Of course not," Bates said and rolled his eyes. "It was a debate topic, nothing more."

"Are you sure about that? With his interest in politics and plan to pick political science as a major, he might be."

"What about when Sybil poured paint over Lady Flintshire's fur coat last Christmas, screaming about animal rights and calling Susan a murderer? Does that make her a terrorist?"

Robert smiled, remembering his ten year old daughter's passionate defense of animal rights and how she had argued with Susan.

"She's nine, Bates." He made a face. "I remember the incident costing me a fair chunk of money to get that damn fur coat properly cleaned."

"Maybe you should let Sybil interview this Branson fellow?"

"Perhaps I should, but unfortunately, as you very well know, Sybil is in England."

"So, is Branson in or not?"

Robert sighed and handed the page to Bates. "You decide."

 _To be continued…_


	2. Dr Levinson, I presume?

Thank you for all the lovely comments and encourragements. It means a lot. Here's chapter two in quick response :D

* * *

 **Chapter 2 – Dr. Levinson, I presume?**

 **Two Years Later**

Cora Crawley, nee Levinson, descended the stairs to the main floor of her home in Ithaca, NY. The sound of male voices and laughter filtered through out into the hallway, making her smile. It was good to be home again.

Cora, or Dr. Levinson as she was better known as on the Cornell Campus, held a PhD in American Literature of the 1920s and 30s. As a tenured faculty member of the English department, she had been on a sabbatical for the past year. After some travels and research in the United States, she had spent the remainder of the year abroad, to be closer to her daughters who were all away at boarding school in England. Cora and Robert had a townhouse in London, and that had been Cora's base while in Europe. When she and Robert were at home in Ithaca, the girls would stay with their grandmother in Yorkshire or their Aunt Ros in London. Neither Cora, nor Robert felt comfortable with allowing the three girls to live mostly unsupervised in their London home.

Still musing over the delight at being back home and in her own house, Cora entered the living room, scanning the group of young men gathered there. Some faces were familiar, but there were a few new ones as well. Spotting Robert talking and gesturing wildly as he spoke to a gentle faced young man Cora did not recognize, she again felt a stab in her heart at the thought of them losing their son. Robert had been heartbroken at the miscarriage and it had put a serious strain on their marriage, almost bringing it to an end. The only blessing was that the girls had not known as they had all been away at school at the time. Shaking the sad memories off, she scanned the room again, spotting a tall, dark blond boy standing by the fireplace. He was looking at the pictures of her family. As he turned and she saw his clear blue eyes, Cora realized who the boy was. Ever the hostess, Cora set out across the room to get to know the young man.

~ ~ ~ o ~ ~ ~

Matthew sipped his soda as he studied the pictures on the mantle in the Crawley's living room. Around him his team mates were talking and laughing. He could hear Bates' booming laughter from across the room.

"Matthew?"

He whipped around at the distinctly feminine voice calling his name and found himself face to face with a beautiful woman.

"Mrs. Cr… I mean Dr. Levinson?" Matthew stuttered.

Cora chuckled and gently touched his arm. "You may call me either. I've been so used to listening to Crawley over the last year it's almost strange to hear people call me Dr. Levinson here."

He smiled tentatively as he took in the woman who was his coach's wife and the mother of the girl who still haunted Matthew's dreams.

"I suppose that Dr. Levinson makes most sense here on campus."

Cora nodded and tilted her head. "I agree. Not to mention hearing you boys calling my husband my lord would probably send me off in giggles every time."

"Lord?" Matthew's eyes widened in surprise and confusion. "I don't understand."

Cora's mouth formed a perfect 'o' and her eyes widened. "I suppose he never told you. Forget I said anything."

"Please…" Matthew lowered his voice. "Dr. Levinson…"

Cora let out a heavy sigh and then smiled cheekily at Matthew. "Only because you have those damned Crawley blue eyes."

Matthew laughed a little nervously and felt his face flush. "I still think that's a mere coincidence, Dr. Levinson, but please…. Will you tell me what you meant?"

"My husband's family dates back several centuries," she took a sip of her wine before looking Matthew straight in the eyes. "and so does his title." She glanced over at Robert who was busy filling his plate from the buffet in the corner. "Robert is the ninth Earl of Grantham."

"Holy sh…" Matthew stopped himself before the word left his lips and clammed his mouth shut.

"When we're in England many people refer to him as Lord Grantham or my lord."

Matthew nodded in agreement. It made sense. Then his brain made the math and things clicked and he stared at Cora.

"But that would make you… a lady. _Lady_ Grantham?"

Cora chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Yes, but I prefer Dr. Levinson if I have to pick."

Matthew grinned at her. "Perhaps Lady Dr. Levinson?"

"I think not," Cora wrinkled her nose. "Lady doctor sounds a bit awkward."

Matthew blushed and cleared his throat. "I guess I didn't think that one through. I'm sorry Dr. Levinson."

"Oh hush," Cora gently nudged his arm. "I'm only teasing you."

Matthew's eyes strayed to the family pictures on the mantle. "I guess that makes your daughters ladies too."

"It does."

"I never knew…" Matthew muttered.

"I wasn't aware that you'd met them." Cora frowned and tilted her head.

"Only Mary. _Lady_ Mary, that is."

"Ah, I should've known." Cora smirked a little. "Let me guess… on the ice?"

"Yes." Matthew ran his fingers through his hair. "It was a few years back. At the tryouts."

"Mary takes her skating very serious."

"Yes, well I'm afraid we didn't get along very well. My fault entirely."

Cora just chuckled and sipped her wine. "I'm sure Mary was as much to blame. She can be a little prickly at times, especially when it concerns figure skating."

"I sort of called her an ice princess," Matthew confessed and made a face. He had no idea why he felt compelled to share his moment of shame with Cora.

Cora burst out laughing and eventually Matthew smiled a little goofily. She wiped a stray tear away and then grinned at him.

"That's priceless. She must've been fuming. I'm sorry, it's not that I enjoy hearing that someone's calling my daughter names, but that was pretty funny, and it's very fitting." She chuckled again and shook her head in amusement. "Don't worry about it; I'm sure she's forgotten."

"I highly doubt it," Matthew muttered a bit sullenly.

"Well you can ask her, if you like. She'll be here in a few days."

His eyes widened. "She will?"

"Umm hmm."

"Cora?"

Matthew straightened up at hearing Robert's voice.

"Hello darling." Cora pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek. "We were speaking about Mary."

"I see. I didn't know that you knew her, Matthew."

"I met her at the tryouts… my lord."

Robert's eyes widened and he turned to Cora who was biting her lip, grinning at him.

"Cora, you did _not_ tell him…"

"I'm afraid I did, Robert."

"It's all right, Lord Coach Grantham," Matthew teased behind Robert's back.

"That's enough cheek from you, young man."

"Yes, my lord." Matthew grinned at Robert who did not look very dangerous when scowling at him, not with a chicken wing in one hand and a beer in the other.

"Oh do cheer up, Robert," Cora said and gently wiped off the remnants of her pink lipstick from his cheek. "Matthew is only teasing you."

Robert finished his chicken wing and placed the bones back on his plate before wiping his hands.

"Are you going to New York City with William and Joe next week?"

Matthew shook his head. "Tom and I are sticking around here."

Cora's eyes widened at this information. "Aren't you doing anything for Thanksgiving?"

"Not really. Ordering a pizza and watching TV I suppose." He made a face and shrugged. "It's not a British holiday, so it's no big deal for us."

"You should come here!" She turned to Robert, smiling hopefully. "Please convince him to come, Robert. Thanksgiving is about family, and spending time with people you care about."

Robert gently squeezed Matthew's shoulder. "Cora's right. You and Tom should join us for Thanksgiving dinner."

Matthew smiled and nodded, though the only thought going through his head at the time was that he was going to see Mary again.

 _To be continued…_


	3. Thanksgiving at the Crawleys

**Chapter 3 – Thanksgiving at the Crawleys**

Less than a week later, Matthew found himself back in the Crawley living room, again studying the pictures on display. This time he was admiring a picture of Robert and Bates from their Olympic victory. The two had played on the Canadian 1992 Olympic team. Robert had scored two goals, which had led to Canada taking gold at the games. Except for his two coaches, Matthew recognized several of the player. His eyes returned to Bates, the goalie who had let through the fewest shots of all times. He sighed as he looked at the wide grin on Bates' face. What would this younger Bates have thought if he had known that this would be his last official game? Bates had been seriously injured soon after, permanently preventing him from ever playing hockey again.

"Dreaming of the Olympics?"

Matthew jumped at the sound of her voice. He would recognize it anywhere. He slowly turned around and smiled a little tentatively at her. Her eyes widened and then narrowed.

"You? I should've known."

"As you can see, I made the tryouts," Matthew said, smiling a little teasingly.

"Obviously." Her voice was like ice. "Are you Tom or Matthew?"

"Matthew." He straightened up and offered his hand in greeting. "Matthew Crawley."

"Mary Crawley."

He grinned as she firmly grasped his hand, her slender fingers cool against his warm hand. "Nice to meet you, Lady Mary." She instantly let go, and he stuck his hands in his pockets.

"So there's a sliver of gentleman in you after all."

"Mary, stop it. Matthew is our guest."

"Yes, mum."

Cora smiled at Matthew. He returned it and nodded a greeting. "Hello Dr. Levinson."

"Mum! Sybil's taken my curling iron and won't give it back!"

Cora rolled her eyes at hearing her middle daughter yelling from upstairs. "Please excuse me for a moment."

Matthew just smiled and shuffled his feet a little. He glanced at the clock on the mantle, wondering what was taking Tom so long.

"Edith is such a pain in the ass."

He jumped at Mary's muttered comment, momentarily forgetting that she was in the room with him.

"Your sister?"

"Yes. She's sixteen. Sybil is twelve."

"Sorry mate," Tom strolled into the room, nibbling on something that vaguely resembled a meat pie.

"Tom, meet Lady Mary Crawley."

Mary shot Matthew a stern look, apparently unsure if he was serious or mocking her.

"My lady," Tom grinned and shook her hand after wiping the crumbs off on his pants.

"Charming," she said and her eyebrow inched up. Tom just chuckled. "You can call me Mary if you like." She shot Matthew a sharp look. "You seem less of a clod than him."

"Hey!" Matthew's eyes widened at the insult.

"You're right," Tom said quickly, nodding as he popped the remaining piece of pie in in his mouth. "Matthew has done nothing but messing up lately."

"Tom, honestly…" He glared at the laughing Tom. "Where were you anyway?"

"Just popped in to the kitchen." He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "My mam always says that making friends with the woman in the kitchen will keep a man happy and well fed."

"I suppose that Matthew's made a habit of that too," Mary said and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. "Please excuse me for a moment."

Matthew just gaped at her as she sauntered out of the room. Finally shaking himself out of his shocked state he turned to Tom.

"Did she just call me fat?"

Tom burst out laughing, nodding vigorously. "I think she did."

"I'm not fat!" Matthew hissed at his friend.

"Of course not," Tom said quickly, then snickered again.

"Oh shut it."

Running on the stairs made the two turn their heads towards the entrance to the living room. A moment later a young girl game through, her long hair bouncing in beautiful locks around her head. Her blue eyes widened at the sight of Tom and Matthew.

"Oh!" She straightened up a little and smiled at them. "Are you two hockey players?"

"We are," Tom said and smiled at her. "And you must be Coach Crawley's beautiful youngest daughter. Sybil, right?"

Sybil giggled and twisted a little in place. "Yes."

"I'm Tom and this is Matthew."

"Hello." Sybil moved closer and looked up at Tom. "Are you from Dublin?"

Tom chuckled and nodded. "I am. How did you know?"

Sybil grinned and shrugged. "Just a guess. You're Irish. I've only been to Dublin once. It was pretty."

"Sybil, darling, have you offered our guests something to drink?"

Sybil gasped and her eyes widened. "No, mum." She looked up at Tom and blushed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "How about we go to the kitchen and see what we can find?"

Sybil let out a sigh of relief and nodded. "Alright." Grabbing Tom's sleeve she dragged him out of the room, leaving Matthew alone with Cora.

"I'm so glad you and Tom decided to make it."

"Thank you Dr. Levinson." Matthew smiled a little tentatively at her. "I'm still not sure that we're not intruding on your generosity."

"Nonsense." Cora gently patted Matthew's arm. "To tell you the truth, it will be nice to have some additional male presence around the table. And who knows, it might rub off on my girls to have two well behaved young men present."

"They seem very well behaved to me," Matthew said softly.

"Sybil is perfectly sweet," Cora agreed. "Mary is very sure about everything, and Edith, well she's currently going through of moody phase."

Matthew made a face. "I'll try to remember not to get on their wrong side then."

Cora laughed and gently squeezed his arm. Matthew smiled at her, deciding that he really liked Dr. Levinson.

"Matthew, my boy," Robert said loudly and grinned at the two. "I didn't realize that you were here already."

Matthew shook Robert's hand and watched silently as he greeted his wife. He had come to realize that coach was very fond of his wife and that they appeared to be very much in love even after all these years. It made Matthew a little sad, as it made him think of his own father. Shaking the feeling off, he smiled at the two.

"Thank you for inviting us, coach."

"Don't mention it." Robert patted Matthew's shoulder. "Evens out the numbers a bit." Not waiting for an answer, Robert turned to Cora. "When's your mother and Harold arriving?"

"Any minute now." Cora glanced at her watch. "I'm surprised that they're not here yet."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Cora made a face at her husband. "I guess they're here."

As Cora headed for the front door, a blonde girl came down the stairs. She came closer and eyed Matthew a little tentatively.

"Matthew, this is my middle daughter, Edith," Robert explained, introducing the two.

"Hello." Matthew smiled at Edith who blushed as she mumbled a hello.

"Where's mum?"

"Right here darling."

Cora entered the room, followed by an elegantly dressed older woman and a slightly balding man.

"Edith!" he opened his arms wide and grinned at her. "How's my beautiful niece?"

Edith gave her uncle a hug, only scowling a little as he messed up her curls.

"Robert, aren't you going to greet your favorite mother-in-law?"

"Hello Martha."

Matthew bit his lip as Robert stepped forward, kissing the woman's cheek. Something wet touched his hand and he jumped. Looking down he spotted a yellow Labrador right next to him. She nudged his hand again with her nose and he chuckled as he got the not so subtle message to pet her. Scratching the dog behind the ears he missed Martha studying him with interest.

"And who might this be?" Martha's eyebrow inched up in curiosity as she eyed Matthew. "Mary's beau perhaps?"

Matthew coughed nervously and his eyes widened. To his chagrin, Mary had chosen that particular moment to enter the room.

"Matthew is one of dad's hockey boys, Martha."

Martha rolled her eyes and turned to face her oldest granddaughter. "Hello Mary." She offered her cheek for Mary to kiss and then took the girl's hands. "And do call me grandmother."

"Must I?"

"Mother," Cora held out a drink for Martha that to Matthew looked like a martini.

"Uncle Harold!" Sybil squealed in excitement at seeing her uncle.

"Sybil, munchkin. How are you?" Harold pulled the laughing girl down on his lap and tickled her until she begged for mercy.

"Are you still convinced that you should've come?" Mary said pointedly next to Matthew.

"Your family seems wonderful." He smiled, sincerely for the first time.

"Are you mad?" Mary made a face and glared at him. "I can't believe that I'm actually related to these people. They are completely mental."

"I don't have any siblings, so this is actually quite nice," Matthew said softly.

"Lucky you."

Matthew shrugged and stepped over to Tom, taking the offered soda from him. A moment later the doorbell rang again and another stream of people entered. Matthew recognized Bates' voice.

"I think that's coach Crawley's old coach."

Matthew's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you certain?" Tom nodded. Matthew gaped as he watched Mary wrap her arms around the elderly gentleman's neck and give him a hug, all while grinning from ear to ear. So this was the legend who had won two Olympic golds for Canada and coached another team to yet a third. Charles Carson war truly a living legend and had been Matthew's idol since a young age. He straightened up when Robert led the man over to where he and Tom were standing. Once Carson had turned his way, Matthew had recognized him instantly.

"Matthew, Tom, I'd like you to meet Charles Carson."

"It's an honor," Matthew almost whispered as he shook the man's hand.

Carson chuckled and winked at him. "At ease, master Crawley. I'm retired now."

"Of course." Matthew laughed a little nervously.

"How long are you staying, Carson?" Mary looked eagerly up at the gentle giant.

"I'm in town for a few days."

"Will you come and watch me skate?"

Matthew was surprised by the gentle tone, and how Mary almost seemed to change into a completely different person in Charles Carson's presence.

"Oh I don't know…"

"Please?"

"Mr. Carson is very busy, Mary."

Matthew smiled at the teasing Scottish brogue. Interestingly enough the stern looking Carson seemed slightly flustered and straightened up a bit more at hearing her.

"Perhaps I can make the time?" He turned and smiled at Mary's coach. "If you think it's worth my time, Mrs. Hughes. Is she any good?"

Mary huffed, hands on her hips she gave him a stern look. "Of course I am. I wouldn't have asked you otherwise."

He gently pinched her cheek and winked at her. "I'm only teasing you, my girl." He shot Elsie a quick glance. "Still, I think it prudent to ask your coach for permission before barging in on private practice time."

"You're always welcome, Mr. Cason." Elsie smiled warmly at him.

"I'm glad to hear it." Gently patting Mary's cheek, he nodded. "I'll be there."

"Thank you. You won't be sorry. I promise."

~ ~ ~ o ~ ~ ~

To Matthew's surprise, he was seated between Mary and Martha. Tom was between Mary and Sybil. Judging by Cora's disapproving look, Sybil had most likely been the one plotting to make that happen since Harold was now placed on the other end between Elsie and Edith.

"You two do make a striking couple. Perhaps you should consider him, Mary? It's perfectly fine to date a college hockey player."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I find it best to be in the same country as the person I date, Martha."

Martha made a face and Matthew bit his lip. "I don't think that we're really all that compatible, Mary and I."

"Oh?" Martha looked up from her heaping plate of turkey dinner. "You're English. So is she. You both skate."

"Barely," Mary muttered. Matthew shot her a dirty look, but refrained from commenting.

"He's not bad looking, Mary. And he does eat like an Englishman."

"I suppose he does know how to hold a knife and fork," Mary said in a snippy voice.

"The real reason, Mrs. Levinson, is that I actually have a girlfriend," Matthew said in a gentle voice.

Mary gaped and stared at him. When realizing what she was doing, her mouth snapped shut.

"You do, do you?" Martha said with a chuckle. "Is she as beautiful and talented as my granddaughter?"

"She's pretty," Matthew said and smiled. "Her name is Lavinia and she's studying English here at Cornell."

"Lavinia, hmm? Is she English too?"

"Yes, she is."

Martha gave him a long look before focusing on her plate again. Matthew could feel Mary's eyes burning a hole in his head.

"She sounds dull."

Matthew tried not to laugh at Mary's almost petulant comment. Perhaps he could have a little fun with her?

"I can assure you that she's not." He grinned at her and held her gaze for a brief moment. "It almost sounds like you're jealous. I didn't know that you fancied me."

Mary's eyes widened. "I don't! Honestly."

She attacked her turkey with a little more force than necessary, shooting him a death glare.

"I think you do." He leaned closer. "Do you have my picture in your room?"

Mary coughed and reached for her water glass.

"Mary? Are you all right?"

"Yes, mum."

Mary glared at Matthew who just grinned. Ignoring her, he leaned forward a little and smiled at Cora. "This is wonderful, Dr. Levinson."

"Thank you, Matthew."

Robert grinned. "Well said Matthew. Everyone, let's raise our glasses to the wonderful woman who has made this feast happen. To my darling wife, Cora."

Cora smiled fondly at her husband as they all toasted her. Again Matthew felt that stab of sadness and let out a sigh. Not realizing that anyone had heard, he was surprised when Mary nudged him.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine." She put her silverware down and dabbed her napkin against her lips before turning to face Matthew. "I'm sorry for teasing you. I really didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't and the same goes for you."

"So will you tell me what's bothering you?"

Matthew made a face. "It's nothing really. I'll tell you later."

Understanding that whatever it was, it was private, Mary did not push him any further.

"Everyone, can I please have your attention for a moment…"

Matthew gave Mary a questioning eyebrow.

"We always say what we're thankful for," Mary whispered quickly as Cora started to thank everyone for coming and sharing that she was so thankful for all of them being there.

"What I'm really most thankful for, is to be home again, with my family and all of you."

Matthew smiled at the look of sheer happiness on Cora's face.

One by one, they shared what they were thankful for. Some were more serious than others, something Harold proved by mentioning a certain race horse that had secured him a nice amount of money. Cora scowled at her brother, huffing that he was mocking tradition. He just grinned and blew her a kiss. As it came closer to being his turn, Matthew felt nervous. Clearing his throat, he looked around the table.

"I'm thankful for being able to play hockey, and for making new friends here at Cornell. I'm also thankful for my parents who always encouraged me to pursue my dream."

"Oh, Matthew," Cora's eyes misted at his words.

Suddenly feeling silly he made a face and turned to Mary. "Your turn."

"I'm thankful for my family, and for not getting injured this year. And I'm especially thankful for Elsie. Without her I would not be going to the Europeans next year."

"Tom?"

"I'm thankful for Ireland beating England in rugby."

"Oh you," Robert huffed and glared at the grinning young man.

The table erupted in laughter, knowing how serious Robert was about his three favorite sports, hockey, cricket and rugby.

"Me now!" Sybil piped up.

"Wait, is that all, Tom?" Mary objected.

"I'm also thankful for sitting between the two prettiest girls at this end of the table."

Sybil laughed and Mary rolled her eyes as everyone burst out laughing again.

 _To be continued…_


End file.
